


No future living in the past

by littlecountrymouse



Category: Animal Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, The flu, honestly it's mostly fluff with feels, menions of puking but nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 20:57:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16249664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlecountrymouse/pseuds/littlecountrymouse
Summary: Deran’s finally got himself together - he’s got the bar, Adrian, their own fuckinghouse.He isn't just a Cody with no future.But apparently getting out doesn't mean he’s escaped the Cody curse of screwing things up, and when he gets sick, everything nearly comes crashing down on top of him.





	No future living in the past

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! Wow. I think this is the most work I've ever put out so close together - I'm normally one to post like twice a year, but these boys have me getting shit done all over the place.
> 
> Anyway, this thing kind of got away from me, and isn't actually what I had planned when I started it. But I enjoyed writing it, so I hope you all enjoy reading it!
> 
> Thank you so very much to ires-posts and allthehearteyes for all your help with everything, I love you both.
> 
> Come hit me up at dixiethumbelina.tumblr.com if you want to chat!

Deran wakes up feeling like he’s coming off a week-long bender, everything aching and his temperature shot, his guts tied up in knots and his temper on a hair trigger, and there’s no good reason for any of it. He barely finished his second beer the night before, and other than working his ass off, he hasn’t done anything to warrant him being under the weather.

But then he thinks about Pope puking in the bathroom at the bar a couple of days ago, and at the time not being concerned about catching whatever it was, because his immune system is solid.

Ah. That makes sense. Apparently his immune system is a lying asshole that has some holes in its defences. Deran glares down at his stomach. Betrayed by his own body. That’s a sensation he’s used to, but at least it used to be for at least a more pleasant reason than the fucking flu.

But he still has shit to do, even if he’d rather drag Adrian back to bed so he can curl up with him and die. He needs to clean the bar, for one thing. He’s got a delivery coming in, too, and the new fryer is acting up and needs to be looked at. 

Deran tumbles out of bed with a groan while regretting this version of him that has responsibilities, and nearly brains himself on the closet on his way out the door.

Thankfully, Adrian is already in the shower, so he doesn’t see Deran behaving like a drunk zombie while he makes them breakfast and coffee.

The most he can manage is toast, and while he knows Adrian won’t care, Deran is still disappointed in himself. He usually tries to do something at least kind of good for them for breakfast, because half the time it’s the only meal they end up sharing together. Other than that, it’s usually Adrian bringing him takeout or them eating something from the bar and Deran grabbing bites of whatever it is on the run, but it feels shitty, so he’s been trying to at least do breakfast in the same place and at the same time.

Adrian frowns at him over the table more than once, and Deran can see the restraint while he tries to stop himself from mother-henning when Deran doesn’t manage more than a few bites of his toast and half his coffee. 

Deran shoots him down with glares that would send other people running. Thankfully, Adrian is apparently made of cast iron when it comes to Deran’s face, because all he does is roll his eyes every time.

He finally gives in when they’re both about to head out, pulling Deran into a hug that’s both gentler and longer than normal. “Are you okay? You’ve been weird all morning.”

Deran doesn’t really know how to say that no, he feels like shit, all shivery and hot and cold and sore and pissed off. So he just nods and curls into Adrian’s warm body for a moment before pulling away with a sigh.

“Come on, you gotta get to work.”

Adrian gives him one of those searching looks that never fails to make Deran feel like the guy can see all the way through him, but he presses a kiss to Deran’s cheek and lets go of him. “See you tonight?”

Deran nods. “Yeah, sure.”

With a final glance back at him, Adrian walks down to his car and leaves Deran standing in the doorway, wishing he could just go back to bed and sleep through whatever this is.

But there’s a bar he needs to clean.

Ugh. 

Deran sighs, locks the door and heads out.

***

It goes about as well as he’d been expecting it to. Nothing goes right - he somehow breaks the vacuum, the fitting on the power washer won’t connect to the hose that’s it’s always connected to, the fryer that had cost him two grand is fucked completely and needs to be returned, and the keg delivery is late.

Oh yeah, and as of 9 AM, he starts puking and can’t stop. Deran ends up worshipping the porcelain god so much that his knees ache, his throat is shredded and he can barely stagger over to unlock the door when Tony comes in to start his shift in the kitchen.

His cook looks at him like he’s the walking dead, and honestly, from what Deran’s seen, he doesn’t blame him. He feels, and looks, like shit. His eyes are bloodshot, his hair is a gross, sweaty mess, and at one point there he had vomit in his beard. After a quick clean up in the sink, he just stinks of it, but at least he isn’t actually wearing any that he knows of.

By the time Kai is there to take over for him at 3 PM, Deran is worn out and miserable and short tempered with his staff, and he can’t even bring himself to reply to Adrian’s occasional text without snapping. He feels like a total asshole. The staff are getting a bonus in their pay just for having to deal with him, and he holds back from giving more than a short but hopefully sweet enough text to Adrian, then throws the fucking phone on his office desk so he can ignore it.

Hopefully he’ll be able to prevent an argument on that front, at least. 

He’s trying to pour beers while his head spins enough that he’s stumbling in place, when Kai pushes him out of the way. “Go lie down, would you? _Away _from the customers. I’m pretty sure having something as contagious as you in here is classed as breaking a health code or something.”__

__“I’m fine.” Deran isn’t, really._ _

__“You are not. Go, couch, that way.” Kai gestures towards the back room, and glares at Deran when he opens his mouth to argue. She’s his employee. He’s pretty sure he’s supposed to be her boss, not the other way around._ _

__“Go, or I’ll tell Adrian that you’ve been a jackass again.”_ _

__Damn it. Kai and Adrian get along like a house on fire. That won’t end well for him. Deran attempts to glare, and gives up when it boots his headache into top gear. “Fine. I’ll call Craig to come help.”_ _

__“I’d really prefer it if you didn’t.” Kai grimaces, and honestly, Deran doesn’t blame her. Craig is more a hindrance than a help when he serves. “I know how to close up, so go. Sleep. I’ll wake you when I leave.”_ _

__Deran shoots her a dirty look, but he’s also pretty sure he’s going to pass out soon and he can hear the couch calling his name. So he makes his way through the crowd of people and stumbles to the back room._ _

__He snags a bucket that looks mostly clean before he drops, too messed up to turn the light off or even get rid of his shoes. His one attempt nearly sends him off onto his face, so he gives it up as a bad idea and curls up under the blanket on the back of the couch, burrowing into something that he suspects started life as Craig’s pillow._ _

__Deran’s going to have to shave his head after sleeping on it._ _

__But he’s exhausted and dizzy and his already empty gut is still complaining, and he can’t be bothered thinking about the ramifications of sleeping on anything that’s been this close to a naked Craig._ _

__He passes out wanting Adrian next to him, even if he isn’t sure what he’d do with the company._ _

__***  
He comes to tangled and in the dark, with someone shaking him awake. Deran thinks he’s well within his rights to come up swinging, and it’s satisfying to knock them backwards, the grunt they get out music to his ears._ _

__That feeling drains away when he comes up properly and sees Adrian on his ass next to the couch, a hand covering the right side of his face so that he’s staring up at Deran with his left, his mouth open in surprise._ _

__Oh, _shit._ Oh, fuck, what did he do? _ _

__Deran manages to get out a choked squeak and throws himself as far away from Adrian as he can get, nearly toppling over the arm of the couch in his mad attempt to get the fuck away before he does something else. Something worse._ _

__But, really, how much worse can you get than decking your boyfriend? _Again?__ _

__He hits the back door at a fast-paced stagger before Adrian is able to get up off the floor, but the world spins so badly around him that he can’t get any further than the gate before he loses his balance and topples into the wall._ _

__His legs won’t work when he tries to push himself back up, sending him crumpling back onto the ground like they’re made of wet sugar. It’s only two strong arms wrapping around him that stop him braining himself on the path, because Deran can’t even get himself together enough to put his hands out._ _

__It’s gotta be Adrian, but Deran can’t even bear to look at him, instead curling away until Adrian has no choice but to let him slide back onto the ground, this time on his ass with Adrian holding him up on one side and the wall on the other._ _

__“Deran? C’mon man, I can’t carry you to the car. You gotta stand up, or I’ll have to call Craig.”_ _

__No. No, Craig would kick his ass for this, and while Deran is aware he well and truly deserves it, he’d like to be able to at least attempt to defend himself. “I’m alright.” He struggles to get himself vertical again, but barely gets his ass an inch off the ground, and even that makes him shake like a leaf._ _

__“Uh-huh.” Adrian’s big hand tugs at Deran’s chin until he has no choice but to look up at him. The bruise is already starting up on his cheek, red and swollen, and he looks so fucking sad while he stares down at him, that look that says he can see right through Deran’s bullshit._ _

__Jesus Christ, what has he done?_ _

__He swore he’d never raise a hand to Adrian again, that he’d never do anything to hurt him. That he’d be _good.__ _

__Who was he kidding? He’s a Cody. His whole family is physically incapable of being good at anything other than sex._ _

__“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” It comes out choked and high-pitched, Deran’s head dropping down onto his knees so he doesn’t have to look at the mess he’s made anymore._ _

__“Come here, you idiot. It’s fine, I’ve gotten worse in the water before.” Adrian tugs him in until Deran is almost in his lap and gets his hand around the back of Deran’s neck, stroking at the block of muscle there._ _

__“I shouldn’t have woken you up like that. It’s my fault, you hear me?” Adrian sounds so determined, like he’s a step off shaking Deran into submission._ _

__It’s a shame they’re as stubborn as each other, because Deran would really like to give in and let Adrian win this one. The problem is that it’s not Adrian’s fault that he hit him. It’s Smurf’s fault for raising them that the only thing to do when you’re vulnerable is to lash out, it’s his brothers’ faults for making Deran justifiably afraid of anyone being around him when he’s sleeping._ _

__But mostly, it’s Deran’s fault for being an idiot who still hasn’t figured out how to keep his fists to himself. He shakes his head in response, feeling like it’s going to fall off his shoulders. It feels like he should say something better than ‘sorry’, because that felt ridiculously cheap, but he doesn’t know what else he could possibly say._ _

__“Hey.” Adrian tugs at his chin until Deran has no choice but to look up at him, trying not to stare at the marks he’s left on Adrian’s face. “Deran, come on. It’s okay.”_ _

__“I didn’t mean to, I swear.” Deran tries to put as much honesty into it as he can. He needs Adrian to know that, if nothing else. Even if this makes him finally figures out he isn’t worth the trouble, Adrian needs to know Deran never wanted to hurt him._ _

__“I know. It’s alright, you’ve always been shitty to wake up.” Adrian smiles at him, fingertips tickling over the soft spot behind his ear that always makes Deran shudder. “I should have known better, but you … you didn’t look good, man.” His throat moves as he swallows and shakes off whatever image he’s got in his head. “Scared the hell out of me.”_ _

__“I’m okay.” It sounds like bullshit even to Deran. He doesn’t feel okay, he feels like he’s been in a bar fight then ran over by a truck for good measure._ _

__“No, you’re not.” Adrian’s chuckle doesn’t have an ounce of humor in it. “You’re so fucked up it isn’t funny. I should have figured something was up with you this morning.”_ _

__Deran scowls at his shoes. Adrian seriously can’t blame himself for any of this. “Yeah, well, I probably should have told you.”_ _

__“Yeah.” It comes out as a drawn-out sigh, but Adrian still drags him closer so that he’s taking all of his weight, apparently still going through with his idea of getting Deran vertical. “But that’s okay.”_ _

__No, it’s not. Deran wanted to be better this time around, at talking and sorting things out before they got bad. And he couldn’t even make himself tell Adrian he was sick. He goes to apologize again, but gets stopped by Adrian putting his hand over his mouth gently._ _

__“Don’t even try it. Seriously, D, I’m not mad. It’s okay.”_ _

__He might not be now, but Deran kind of feels like this is going to bite him later on. At the very least, he’s pretty pissed off at himself. But he’s too sick to put up much more of a fight at the moment, and really, it feels good to be next to Adrian, so he nods and keeps his mouth shut for now._ _

__He can argue with him about it later, or go and find out what the fuck you’re supposed to do to make up for punching your partner in the face._ _

__It takes him being actually on his feet for Deran to realize Adrian’s hauled him up, all those fucking muscles in his upper body doing a hell of a job at getting them both standing._ _

__“Think you can take it from here?” Adrian’s voice is quiet in his ear, his breath tickling his skin gently, and yeah, Deran really likes that. Even sick and guilty and sorry for himself it still sends tingles up his spine. He lets himself curl into the hug they've got going on, until he gets his legs to do their job and keep him from knocking both of them over._ _

__It takes him far too long to get a handle on his body, and when he does, Deran gets a sudden rush of embarrassment for being such a mess. It's not that he's ashamed of falling apart in front of Adrian - he’s seen Deran in worse shape more than once._ _

__No, it's just a lifetime of being the baby, the one who needs help with shit that he shouldn’t. It’s memories of being the one who makes mistakes over and over and over again, and of this whole thing being just another situation he can't really fix no matter what Adrian says._ _

__Also, he still smells like puke and sweat, and there’s dried tears pulling at the skin on his face, and really, who wouldn’t be a little embarrassed having the best person in their life see them like that?_ _

__But Adrian doesn’t seem to care, about _any_ of it, and that’s kind of amazing. Stupid, given what Deran did to him last time, but amazing._ _

__As long as Deran doesn’t think about what he did, at least not until his brain is back online, he can work with it. He can work with having Adrian’s arm around him, holding him up while he stumbles towards the van like he's drunk. He can be quiet, and not look at Adrian’s face, and he can curl up in the passenger seat and let himself be driven home, even though he hates it._ _

__He can pretend he hasn’t stuck yet another stain on their relationship and that it doesn’t feel like the ceiling is going to crash down on top of him any minute now._ _

__***_ _

__The fever kicks into a new gear of fucking awful somewhere during the drive home, which means that Deran doesn’t really remember anything between leaving the bar and getting poured into a shower with Adrian holding him up. The whole deal feels a bit like a messed up dream, everything he does not really feeling like he's done it._ _

__The only part that actually sticks out is when Adrian asks if he wants something to eat or drink, only for Deran to have to puke in the sink at the sheer thought of it._ _

__And the shower. He’s pretty sure he isn’t dreaming that. His head is a mess and his entire body somehow manages to have like, three layers of hot/cold/holy-shit-I’m-on-fire, but it’s heaven to stand silently under the spray with a wet, naked Adrian who keeps looking at him like Deran is the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Even better, he’s so fucking sick that even the wicked bruise that’s spread itself across Adrian’s cheek can’t pull him away, not when being close to Adrian makes him feel just a little better._ _

__They don’t do showers together often - frankly, there isn’t really the room or the time. Deran just wishes he was more awake and aware of the whole thing so he could enjoy it properly, instead of being a screwed-up zombie who could hardly fucking wash or dry himself. As it is, he can hardly handle stumbling out and flopping facedown on their bed in just his underwear, too worn out to contemplate more clothing or even climbing under the covers, even though he's started to shake with the chills again._ _

__He briefly wonders how he lost Adrian between drying off and him crawling into bed, then decides he’s too wrecked to worry too much. It’s their house - it’s not like he’s disappeared into the darkness or something. At worst, he’s probably decided to sleep in the spare room to avoid Deran’s disease and his fists._ _

__Even if he did run off, Deran would have to let him - the room’s spinning from where he’s burrowed his head under the pillow, and standing up, let alone walking, isn’t on the cards in the foreseeable future._ _

__Still, the bed feels weird without Adrian next to him, and Deran might be able to feel the guilt at the back of his mind, threatening to come down and crush him again, but he doesn’t want to be alone right now. He wants Adrian to curl up behind him and keep him warm, to wrap his arms around Deran like he’s still worried he’s gonna cut and run like he used to and kiss his way over every bit of skin he finds._ _

__Even though he wants to drag himself up and go searching, or at least send Adrian a text and ask him to get his ass into bed, Deran can’t make his body cooperate and quickly slides into an uneasy, hazy doze, complete with fucked-up partial dreams that he doesn’t want to know the endings of._ _

__He thinks Adrian comes in and coaxes him under the blankets at some point, and he certainly wakes up later in the night covered in sweat where they’re curled around one another. And even sticky and sore and shivering, Deran sighs quietly and headbutts at Adrian’s chin til he moves it and Deran can tuck himself into his shoulder._ _

__The sleep he falls into after that is considerably more pleasant. No dreams, just blackness and Adrian in his arms._ _

__***_ _

__He wakes up four more times to throw up, but at least he isn't alone. Every time, Adrian drags himself out of bed and keeps Deran upright, keeps pouring water and Gatorade down his throat even though Deran _really_ doesn’t want it, then helps him back to bed after._ _

__Deran refuses to admit that the fluids really helped, at least once he could keep them down. He still maintains that he never needed to know what it looked like to puke blue, and Adrian could have just let him be a dehydrated idiot for a while longer so Deran could avoid that knowledge at all._ _

__But when he wakes up at eleven AM, he feels considerably less like death. The fever seems basically gone, and his guts don’t feel like they’re tied up into a knot anymore. And Adrian is at his back, warm and snoring quietly._ _

__Deran grins, rolls over and intends to go back to sleep when he stupidly opens his eyes and catches on the fucking bruise he gave Adrian. It sends him jerking back with a curse, the pain in his belly back in a rush._ _

__Oh, shit. In the mess he’d been in, he’d forgotten about that._ _

__“Deran?” Adrian’s voice is clear, even though he looks fucking wrecked, all bloodshot eyes and pale skin._ _

__Deran tries to swallow down the hundred apologies he wants to let spill out, and reaches out a shaky hand to stroke his fingertips over the edge of the mark, as light as he can. He doesn’t even know what the hell he’s doing but he can’t make himself stop, and Adrian doesn’t even move except to smile at him, tiny and kind._ _

__“How do I fix this?” Deran asks quietly. He sounds like he’s been chewing on rocks for a week._ _

__“There’s nothing to fix - you didn’t mean it, you said sorry, it’s all good.” Adrian reaches out and drags him back in, and Deran wraps an arm over his chest, pulling them impossibly close to one another._ _

__Still, it can’t be that simple. Nothing in Deran’s life is ever that simple. “Are you sure?”_ _

__Adrian’s silent for a moment, making Deran wonder why the hell he’s pushing it when he’s apparently been forgiven, but that feels like something he would have thought a year ago, which means it’s probably wrong._ _

__“I can pretty much guarantee I’m gonna catch whatever it is you’ve got, so how about you look after me, and we call it even. Okay?”_ _

__Huh. Deran mulls that over for a second. He’s never done that for Adrian before - the guy can hold himself together so well that his hangovers mostly consist of hunger and bitchiness, and he’s never been around to look after him if he caught something._ _

__He likes the idea, actually. Most of the time, it’s been Adrian holding him together, but it’d be nice if he could do the same for him._ _

__And wow, now he’s kind of hoping his boyfriend will get sick so he can look after him. The guilt ramps itself up again, and Deran closes his eyes and holds on tighter, trying to drown it out. He has to take Adrian at his word that things are okay, and wanting to look after him isn’t that bad of a thing._ _

__“Deran?”_ _

__He jerks back a little, suddenly aware that he was supposed to answer Adrian, and now he just looks like an idiot. “Yeah, of course. I’d do it anyway.”_ _

__Adrian smiles, the one he does where only one side of his mouth comes up, small and soft and usually only for him. The one Deran loves most of all. “I know.”_ _

__He’ll still spend the rest of his life trying to make up for all the shit he’s done to this guy, but that’s okay. Adrian apparently is with him for the long run, and Deran doesn’t want to be anywhere else._ _

__“Go back to sleep. I’ve got the day off and Heather’s looking after the bar.” Adrian’s soft and warm when he folds himself around Deran, his chin resting on top of Deran’s head._ _

__Okay. He can do this. What’s one more major fuck-up to add to the pile of things he has to fix?_ _

__With that comforting thought in mind, Deran lets himself be soothed by Adrian breathing steadily at his side, warm and chilled out and apparently not bothered at all by Deran being a dumbass._ _

__His last thought as he falls asleep is that he’s so fucking lucky that Adrian puts up with all his shit He'll have to make it up to him one day._ _


End file.
